


Perpetual Disaster

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 03:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9639809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: Peter and Roman definitely don't like each other. At all. Nope. (They do, shhh.)“What can I get you today?” Peter asks. His tone is suffused with a forced, sugary-sweet politeness that is anything but sincere.Roman notices and smirks in response.“Coffee,” he answers blankly. “I hear you might have that around here.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just trying my hand at some Romancek! And, of course, utilizing my favorite AU =D
> 
> Not beta read ♥

The bell above the cafe door jingles, drawing Peter out of his daydreams - gone were the visions of soft, brown hair, and bright eyes narrowed at him flirtatiously -, and he looks up in time to catch the intense gaze of a frightfully familiar face.

“Roman,” he barely refrains from snarling.

A sniff, nose held high. Roman Godfrey hardly deigns to look at him for long, as if the sight of him is a personal offence; or less than the dirt on the bottom of his nice, shiny shoes. Peter rolls his eyes heavenward and begs any deity willing to listen to let this moment pass quickly.

“ _Peter_ ,” Godfrey pulls a face briefly, disgust rolling over his stoic features.

Peter manages to contain a shiver, his comfort level tanking the longer he has to remain in the other’s presence. He stands up straight behind the register, tossing his hair out of his face in a huff.

“What can I get you today?” Peter asks. His tone is suffused with a forced, sugary-sweet politeness that is anything but sincere. 

Roman notices and smirks in response.

“Coffee,” he answers blankly. “I hear you might have that around here.”

‘Here’ being the tiny, cozy coffee shop owned by his family. It used to have a name, a word embroiled in his ancestor’s history. Now it’s just called Pawprints Cafe, which does nothing to dispel the rumor that he’s a werewolf, but it’s cute, and that means its popularity rose pretty quickly over the years. That, and the location -the high school is maybe a block away. Peter works evenings, and goes to that same school during the day. He’s in his last year, just as Roman is.

Roman, who is now leaning on the counter, one hand tucking a few loose strands of his brown hair behind his ear, face arranged into an artful display of false modesty. 

“Hello, earth to dog,” he’s saying. “I’d really rather not file a complaint with your _manager_ for ignoring a customer. You might get grounded.”

“Yeah, sure,” another rolling of eyes. Peter shakes his head and pointedly meets the other boy’s bright eyes. “Black, cream and sugar on the side? Or do you want milk today.”

Roman’s order is never the same. Peter is certain that that’s the intent, but he’s a paying customer -a rich, paying customer. Any personal strife between them is forgotten when Peter is standing behind the counter.

“I think I’ll get a latte, actually,” Roman stands up straight and digs a fifty-dollar bill out of his wallet. “And one of those blueberry pastries. With the icing sugar on the top.”

He tosses the bill onto the counter before leaning close once more. And then closer still. Peter stiffens, glaring out at the other behind his fringe of messy, brown hair.

“Keep the change,” is whispered nearly into his ear, and then Roman is strolling away to find a table, fully expecting his order to be _delivered_ , as usual.

 _Dickhead_ , Peter thinks with a silent growl. He casts a cursory glance around the shop and, finding no others waiting in line, moves to make Princess Roman’s latte. It’s not the easiest drink, either, so he takes his time, and then plates one of the pastries his mother -and manager-, had made hardly an hour before. He sets both down none too gently in front of Roman after sauntering over slowly.

“Your order,” Peter announces with a forced flourish.

“About time,” another smirk, Roman’s eyes glittering. “Thanks, _Peter_.”

“You are so welcome, _Roman_.”

Peter walks away, making sure to sway his hips and take his dear ol’ time. Returned to the counter, he glances at Roman one last time before disappearing into the door behind him.

“Hey, trouble,” his cousin, Destiny, greets him. 

She’s sitting in the office, the only other person with the keys to it. Despite his… decent behavior, his mother still doesn’t trust him with them. He grumbles under his breath and sits on the desk with a visible pout.

“Can I have my break early, please?” he asks nicely, peeking at his cousin with wide blue eyes.

Destiny, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, spares him a single look -in it, Peter can see that she knows exactly what’s going on. She must have seen Roman enter the shop. 

“Fine,” she relents. “Go before Lynda comes back.”

He immediately obeys, nearly jogging to snatch up his coat and don it. He slams out the big metal door behind the cafe and digs in his pockets for a ciggie and a lighter. Maybe he has a chance to take one puff, two, perhaps, with a single exhale, before Roman is circling around from the front with a pointed stride.

“About time,” the other boy repeats with a smile.

Peter sighs out a gust of smoke before returning the expression, features gentle and without the mock-anger and repulsion. Roman’s green eyes narrow flirtatiously. 

“Yeah,” Peter agrees.

Their hands clasp tightly when Roman reaches him, and they share the fading cigarette between them. The day is dull, the sun shining mutely down on the town around them, setting sluggishly. Inside, the bell over the door jingles, and Destiny’s loud, voracious greeting can be heard even here.

“You doing anything after work?” Roman asks as if he doesn’t know already (the unspoken ‘or anyone’ is obvious).

Keeping up the charade, their mutual little game, Peter tilts his head.

“Just let me check my schedule,” he teases.

The long fingers tangled in his own squeeze softly. Peter looks away with a last roll of his eyes, before clutching suddenly at Roman’s soft, chocolate-colored hair. Their lips meet in a short-lived kiss that has the both of them shivering pleasantly. 

“Break’s up,” Peter whispers into the other boy’s mouth. “See you later?”

“You bet.”

They share one last smile before returning to their halves of the facade. Peter chucks his jacket away and washes his hands just as Lynda strolls in through the swinging door separating them from the front. She looks her son up and down once before shaking her head.

“Your cousin needs some help,” she says fondly. “Dinner rush.”

Peter ducks his head and joins Destiny for the influx of people seeking warmth, coffee, and sugary goodness. Roman, he notices immediately, is sitting where he’d initially left him, sipping on his latte slowly. Their eyes meet over the throng of heads in line, and a private smirk is awarded just to him.

He can’t wait for later.


End file.
